One of us – I promised not to squeal so wild horses will not make me tell you, which one – nearly pinched me in sheer excitement as she was leaning over to get a better look at the vast emptiness behind the oval pane of the airplane window. We nearly squashed our noses flat on the cool plexiglass surface. Tiny pinpoints of lights like fireflies dotted the darkish depth outside and it was proof beyond doubt that we were really coming down to land in the middle of the ocean… far from the soberly wintry Europe… among the palms and opuntias on Tenerife of the Canary Islands. Three of us ready for immersion in a tropical miracle.

The balmy, soothing gust of the tropical air like a fairy kiss, laden with smells of strange flowers and the salty touch of the nearby ocean. This would be my sixth or seventh foray into the African or almost-African land and every time there is the same sensation of homecoming. Hard to describe, really. Hard for others to believe, they usually smirk and whisper: “Hey, she’s gone cheaply sentimental again. Africa the Home, indeed!” Just for the record: Africa happens to be universally recognized as the cradle of humanity, the ancient home continent. So perhaps there is some subconscious reason for the eerie feeling?

But who? And why? A careful reader will have already discerned that the time is winter and the participants of the adventure three members of our SIG. A holiday cruise? Teachers on an exotic trip in the middle of the school year?

To cut a long story short… oh, I see some hands raised. Yes? What? Of course, you’ve got it right! Bright audience, as could be expected – they are readers of the TD&AL SIG Newsletter, after all. Yes, it is three SIG members travelling to a conference. Autonomy 2003, the traditional gathering of some fifty educators of all venues and countries, all intent on pursuing the mystery of the autonomous approach to the learning/teaching process. I know, this does sound tortuous, but I have yet to find a suitable, pithy phrase to describe the class of teachers doing what we are doing. Good thing you know what kind of professionals I have in mind.

Some names, to familiarize the readers with the scope and focus of the conference? Gerd Gabrielsen, Leni Dam and Hanne Thomsen from Denmark. Naoko Aoki from Japan. Leslie Wolff, Jose Luis Vera Batista, Saro Manrique de Lara Penate from Spain (actually the first two are based at the University of La Laguna in Tenerife, while Saro teaches in the Basque Country, none of them “Spain proper”). Jose Lai from Hong Kong (sorry, China nowadays). Felicity Kjisik, Joan Nordlund, Tom Toepfer from Finland. Spain again (“proper” at last!) – Ramon Ribe. Lienhard Legenhausen representing Germany. Turid Trebbi, Norway. There is a lone representative of the UK, the first-comer, Katie Head. The reflective Inga Rebenius from Sweden and the powerful Flavia Vieira from Portugal with a group of her postgraduate students. The list is by no means complete, nor is it drawn up with some distinguishing criterion apart from the level of familiarity (that is, how many times the author exchanged the “what a terrific view, isn’t it!” with any participant). Oh, and there are those three Polish people – Marta Bujakowska, Hania Kijowska and your humble author (does it sound humble, I always wondered!)

The event does not sound “grand” nor is it intended to be. Although the greatest names in the world of Leaner Autonomy rub elbows with practitioners just beginning their trip. There is the atmosphere of focused activity laced with a certain intimacy, understandable in view of the fact that most participants have been meeting thus several times. It is only my second Autonomy conference but I already feel like “one of the gang” and the feeling is endorsed by smiles of recognition on many faces remembered from Helsinki, two and a half year ago. I have not discussed this particular charm of the event with Marta and Hania but I guess they would corroborate my impression.

No publishers panning their ware, pushing glossy “new, sensational, autonomy-supporting” editions of the same tired, worn out old concept of “all will learn what I tell them to learn and exactly when I think they should learn and I will gracefully accept the teacher’s blessing”. No hectic running between ten or more conference rooms – although just trying to choose one of the two simultaneous sessions offered is painful. This year Jose Luis, the organizer, has announced an added hardship: the individual presentations, each 15 minutes long, are stacked in series of three or four with some time reserved for a general discussion ending each block. For the sake of order the participants are strongly discouraged from room-hopping while the session is in progress. Tough orders, I murmur, scanning the outlines. What has the world come to… - moan, sigh. Such authoritarian methods at an Autonomy Conference!

I am trying not to think ahead to the most important part of this report, which is outlining – at least roughly – the contents. How can I embrace such richness of ideas and concepts, compress them in an orderly account? I am leafing through the notes and handouts, amazed at yet another contrast with a run-of-the-mill teachers conference of today. Of handouts there is practically next to none, the emphasis being put on personal communication rather than loading the audience with sheets of information which just looks grander in print, but would be more lively if delivered by word of mouth. Here I can sit unencumbered by the duty to read and follow the lecture simultaneously. Instead, I can choose to take notes or just listen and trust myself to remember.

Highlights? For me:

Inga Rebenius at the plenary. Passionate yet consistently logical reflection on the nature of autonomy per se and the participant – the learner. Some questions thrown in, provocatively, to continue her presentation even after she had stepped off the dais.

Leni Dam with her frank account of failure. This is the marker of the conference, that people do not come here to shine, but to share. And if it is a fiasco and any conclusions that can be drawn thereof, that’s a priceless gift. As I was listening to the analysis kept factual, in spite of a current of emotion discernible under the surface, I recognized the dangers familiar from my own experience, traps which I had not been able to avoid. Now at least I could see clearly the mechanism and draw certain comfort in the fact that others, much more experienced, stumble, but do not fall.

Jose Luis Vera Baptiste prepared a feast for the mind and soul with his very practical exposition on how to raise confidence, dispel doubts and learn to ask important questions about self. A basic course on self-counselling should become part of any teacher training curriculum, so many thanks, dear Jose, always caring about others.

Ramon Ribe delivered a jewel of multi-faceted reflection. I will not assert that I comprehended all of his widely-embracing concepts, but it was more than a pleasure to listen to a philosopher in his right.

Gina Oxbrow’s continuing narrative recounting the experience based on the use of Dialogue Journals as the tool of… interpersonal communication, empowering students, awareness raising, developing writing skills. Hard to count the benefits – and hard to forget Gina’s magnetic quality as a speaker.

A lot of presentations were accounts of practical projects, carried out in schools – mostly secondary level, teacher colleges and universities. I should admit to a certain envy when listening to my colleagues reporting on their and their students’ illustrious achievements in developing independence and resourcefulness. Always something to use as a model back in the old country. Like Hanne Thomsen’s approach to portfolios - a presentation tailored exactly to suit my needs, it might seem.

State-of-the-art ICT-enabled initiatives were not neglected. We heard about ILIAD – an international, multilingual and multimedia in-service training resource and about LART, a network project run by tertiary educational institutions from many countries, connected by a website run from the University of Uppsala.

All of this and more in the dreamy, elegantly architectured city of La Laguna, the historical capital of Tenerife, comparable in spirit to Kraków, albeit on a smaller scale. (Small is beautiful, did you not know?). But that’s not all. Every evening our indefatigable hosts, Jose Luis and Leslie, took us out for dinner. Once it was in a cave, another time we drove to Orotava, a town famous for its historical buildings. And the last dinner was in – well, out with it! In The Casino in Santa Cruz. Prior to the visit there we had been warned in no meek terms to watch the attire which should be fitting for the occasion (no leggings, Zosia, please! No jeans, girls! Evening dresses, smart costumes, men in tuxedos - well, that’s taking it a bit too far, but believe me, I did enter with a shiver of apprehension lest the bouncers at the door usher me back into the street). I rather expected roulette, but it seems that a casino is not an inferno of hazard, but a stately club of guests of elevated social status, with a newspaper room complete with deep armchairs and pipe-stands. How colonial…

What followed was even more mind-blowing: a carnival! The Parade. Queens preening on their one-storey-high platforms, adorned in glittering sequins and fluffy feathers. All very innocently erotic and playfully quasi-obscene. My feet tapping to the rhythm of samba. My camera battery running out before the night was over.

And the last whiff of sweet magnolias at the airport.

Good-bye, Tenerife!